Thank God for fog lines — and for guardian angels. This morning's drive Over the Blues was a great adventure. Fog filled the bog at Milton-Freewater and attempted to climb the infamous Interstate 84 six mile, 6 percent grade up Cabbage Hill just east of Pendleton. I crept along in the fast lane carefully watching the fog line and the freeway ahead for taillights. I'd go in the slow lane, but that is reserved mostly for semi trucks and trailers creeping up this notorious grade.
The tendency in fog is for drivers to speed up. Occasionally, I'd check out my rearview mirror in hopes no one was gaining on me.
All I could say was, Well, it sure beats black ice. Then again, if it was black ice, I hope I would have the good sense to just stay home and try again when the ice on the road melted. Better safe and have 30 or more years together than sorry.
As I emerged from the foggy stew at the top of Cabbage Hill, I said thank you to my guardian angel for helping me, one more hair-raising, central nervous system-testing time, get Over the Blues.
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